It is 1970s, normalizing power ruins everything that needs to blossom. A banned poet Dominik Tatarka is sitting in the room of a family house on Mišíková street in Bratislava. He is pulling into the typewriter and placing the papers in a large wicker basket. Dominik Tatarka is writing, transcribing, re-working short or a bit longer autobiographical records, dreams, memories, reflections, metaphors. About mother, women, love, about power which went astray and forgot all about responsibility and decency, about friends and colleagues, creation, community ... His thoughts roaming alone against the night.